


Black T Shirt

by Bunnywest



Series: Blame Ben Folds [1]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Getting Together, M/M, Short & Sweet, Stiles takes no shit from his ex, based on a Ben Folds song
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-02
Updated: 2018-06-02
Packaged: 2019-05-17 11:27:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 854
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14831408
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bunnywest/pseuds/Bunnywest
Summary: Stiles just wants his money back. Then he sees what else his ex has stolen and nope, that's crossing the line.





	Black T Shirt

**Author's Note:**

> So I've been listening to music so I don't go insane while I'm stuck at home, and my brain is throwing prompts at me based my current playlist, which is Ben Folds Five. His lyrics are the shit, and demand to be made into tiny fics.   
> So there'll probably be a few of these, be warned.
> 
> This one's based on "Song for the dumped."  
> Key lyrics here are "Give me my money back, you bitch. And don't forget to give me back my black T shirt."  
> You can blame Spotify and painkillers for this.

  


“Give me my money back, you bitch!” Stiles yells as he pounds on the door of his ex-girlfriends’ house. Well, girlfriend, fuckbuddy, whatever. He thinks it was closer to that second one, if he’s honest. Regardless, he’s pissed. She used his atm card to draw four hundred bucks out of his account, and that’s his rent, so he’s not leaving till he gets it back.

He reflects, not for the first time, that he should have stayed single. He didn’t even _like_ her that much. It was more that he was trying to distract himself from thinking about someone else, someone he shouldn’t be thinking about, because that was a bad, bad idea.

The door opens, and his ex stands there, arms folded across her chest and giving him a look that could strip paint. “ _What?_ ” she hisses. “ _I’m busy!”_ Stiles can see by her dishevelled state and the hickeys on her neck exactly what she’s busy with, and a deep male voice calling out, “Just pay him and tell him to go away,” confirms his suspicions.

“I need my rent money. Hand it over,” he says, palm extended. She sighs, and grabs a roll of notes from her back pocket, muttering under her breath that it was just _a loan_ , for god’s sake. She counts out four hundred, and hands it to him. As she does so, he takes in what she’s wearing. His black t-shirt.

More accurately, Peter’s black t-shirt, the one he loaned Stiles once, and that Stiles has kept for…reasons that he hadn’t examined too closely at the time. He may have taken to wearing it in bed, also for reasons that he chose not to examine. Certainly not so he could sniff at the collar and imagine Peter was lying next to him. Stiles thought he’d lost it, and he’d been genuinely sad. And now, to see the bitch wearing it? He just….nopes all over that shit. “That’s my shirt,” he says flatly. “Give it back.”

Her lips take on a cruel twist then, as she sneers, ”What, this? Your jerkoff shirt?”

Stiles bristles. “It’s not my jerkoff…” he trails off when he thinks about it.

Shit, it kinda is. Apparently he hasn’t done as good a job as he thought of not thinking about that person he’s trying to avoid thinking about. Still, seeing her wearing it makes something in him snap. “You take it off, and hand it back, or I’ll rip it off you right now,” he spits out.

“Jesus, it’s just a t-shirt. Have the damn thing,” she says, rolling her eyes. She disappears for a moment and comes back wearing another top, with Peter’s shirt balled up in her hand. “Take it, I hope you’re both very happy together,” she says as she thrusts it at him, and then she slams the door in his face.

Stiles stands there for a minute, money in one hand, t-shirt in the other, before getting into his jeep and driving to Peter’s. It’s ass o’clock in the morning, but he doesn’t care. He parks the car and walks up the driveway, but Peter opens the door before he can even knock. He stands there, bare chested and wearing sleep pants, and looking criminally attractive for this time of day. “Hello Stiles,” he says with a smile, as if he hasn’t just been woken at 5 am.

“Um, hi. Sorry, I know it’s early...” Now that he’s here, Stiles doesn’t know what he’s doing.

“It’s fine. Come inside,” Peter says, standing aside and letting him enter. Once in the door, Stiles holds out the shirt he’s been clutching. “I came to return this,” he says.

Peter takes it from him, one eyebrow raised. “Stiles,” he says in a dangerous purr, “You've had this for months. Have you been wearing this the whole time?” 

Stiles squirms. “Yeah. Well, till my ex stole it. But I got it back off her, because it’s yours. I shouldn’t have kept it so long. It’s just, it made me think of you.”

Peter’s mouth quirks up in a smile. “Oh, really? So you’ve been wearing my clothes, and thinking of me? How very interesting.”  He takes a deliberate step forward, then another, until he’s backed Stiles against the door. He leans in close and whispers, “Tell me Stiles, have you been wearing it to bed?”

Stiles nods, knowing there’s no point even denying it, not with Peter’s sense of smell. Peter chuckles at the admission. “Tell me sweet thing, how would you feel about wearing it in _my_ bed? And then letting me peel it off you?”

Stile can feel the heat of Peter’s body radiating off him, and he smells so much better in real life, and his breath is tickling Stiles’ ear, and Stiles can't even remember why he ever thought this was a bad idea.  He barely has time to breathe out “Yeah, let’s do that,” before Peter’s pressed against him, kissing him hungrily. Stiles kisses back, hands fisted in Peter’s hair, and neither of them could tell you when the black t-shirt drops unnoticed to the floor.

  


**Author's Note:**

> [Song for the Dumped](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XVk_e31dnlE)


End file.
